The year was 1867. One year before I was born. The first of my family to be born in America. Ma and Pa, Murdock and Isla McCrosky, were recently married, and due to some rather unfortunate circumstances, my folks had to flee the Highlands of Scotland. But we'll get to that a little later. Ma was just nineteen years old. Pa would turn thirty that spring. He had a wife previous, but she passed away from the influenza not long after their wedding.
The day Pa met my mother was a story I liked to hear when I was a boy. Ma lived in a very old village on the eastern shore of Loch Linnhe called, Fort William. Established in the mid-1600's. It was nestled down in a valley not far from Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the British Isles. The old stone fort still stood in its original spot, but had slowly deteriorated over the years. Large chunks of rock that had broken away, lay at the base of the structure.
Every month Pa made a trip to the Village to buy food and supplies. And he had no idea how special this particular trip would be. He harnessed his horse, loaded up the wagon, and set out. He said it took most of the day to get to Fort William from the farm, so he usually set up camp on the edge of the village once he got there. Then he would wake up bright and early, make his purchases, load up, and he was back on the trail home.
Fort William hadn't changed much in the last month since Pa's last visit. Just a regular evening of people spending too much time at the pub and causing trouble. Pa always loved watching all the drunkards fighting in the streets over absolutely nothing. It made for some good entertainment.
However, someone else caught his eye at the pub that night. A beautiful young woman was sitting at a table off to the side. She was alone, deep in thought, sipping on a glass of brandy. She had long strawberry-blonde hair, which she pinned up elegantly under a small black bonnet. She wore a long jade-coloured dress, that complimented her figure. And she had the most brilliant green eyes.
Pa couldn't help but stare. It was definitely love at first sight. He spent the next half-hour or so trying to work up the courage to introduce himself. After his second beer and a shot of whiskey, he finally did it. I'm sure it goes without saying, they hit it off right away. They were hopelessly in love with one another.
It took some time, but they eventually got married, and Ma left the village to live with Pa on his sheep farm. Her father was against it. He hated Pa with every ounce of his being. Not sure why, really, but Pa admits he wasn't upset the day the letter arrived announcing his passing. Of course, he was there for my mother. He didn't like seeing her so heartbroken.
Months passed. Ma and Pa were happy. Pa would spend his days tending to the sheep, and doing other things around the farm. They had a nice bit of land in the highlands. Pa described the terrain as unforgiving. A combination of lush green hills, large rocky cliffs and boulders amalgamated together. Monstrous jagged rocks could be seen in some places, protruding upward through the greenery as if had forced its way up through the earths crust.
The stone farmhouse sat atop a small hill, precariously close to the edge of a cliff. It was a good hundred feet or so to the cold ocean water below. It slammed against the craggy rocks, sending great white clouds of mist into the air. Next to the house was a small shelter where he kept his horse, Jude. And if you looked out the front door you could see the barn. My grandfather built that barn with his bare hands about forty years prior, and it still stood there, strong as ever.
The barn is where Pa kept his sheep at night. Each day he'd get Jude saddled up, and lead the sheep out to the meadow to graze. Then just before supper, he would head back out and herd them back to the barn. It wasn't the best way to make a living, but it was enough to keep food on the table. They were happy, and that's all that mattered. But it wasn't long before their lives were completely destroyed, forcing them to flee their home country. Forever.
It was late one afternoon, and Pa was on his way back to the farm with his flock. He noticed a group of men on horseback off to the west, sky painted a soft pink as the sun set behind them. Pa figured there were about seven of them, and he immediately felt uneasy. People didn't come around, and now these men sat upon their mounts, watching him. Pa drew his Litchfield Repeater, chambered a bullet, and held it at the ready as he slowly trotted behind his flock.
One of the riders gave his horse a kick and approached my father. "Pretty far from home, aren't ya, Lad!" He was an older man, Pa figured he was the leader of the group. His hair was long and scraggly beneath a large brimmed flop hat.
"Could say the same about you." Pa replied. "Not often I run into anyone out 'ere." There was a bit of uneasiness that clung to Pa's voice.
"Quite the flock ye got..." The stranger said with a smile. The rest of the men circled around Pa. "Looks like you might need a hand takin' em home..."
"I think I can manage on my own." Pa's heart began to race. His trigger finger trembled, ready to fire at any moment.
The stranger chuckled, then let out a whistle. Before he had a chance to react, Pa felt a rope slip over his shoulders and tighten around his upper body, pinning his arms at his sides. He was pulled from his saddle and landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him, but he kept a firm grip on his gun. Jude reared, kicking his front hooves in front of him, then he took off out of sight.
As he struggled to catch his breath, he noticed another man with a large hunting knife rushing towards him. The blade shone in the light of the setting sun. With his arms clamped tightly at his sides, Pa did the best he could to point the barrel of his repeater at the man storming toward him. He pulled the trigger just as his attacker was about to plunge his knife down into his chest. The mans eyes rolled into the back of his head and his lifeless body fell on top of Pa. The gunshot startled the sheep and they scattered, bleating as they ran for safety.
By this time, the rest of the rustlers had finally managed to disarm Pa, and held him down on his knees. He looked up at the leader, who was slipping on a pair of black leather gloves.
"That was a big mistake." He said. "Now it's time to teach ye a lesson!" The man cocked his fist back and swung at Pa, delivering a solid blow to the right side of his face. His ears rang, and his vision blurred. The man threw another punch. This time the other side. The ringing intensified. Left, right, left, right. Blow after blow.
"Please stop!" Pa shouted. "Please, just take them! Leave me be!"
"Aye it's too late for that I'm afraid!" Said the leader. He raised his leg into the air and drove the heel of his boot into Pa's face, sending him flailing backward, blood pouring from his mouth and nose.
The leader of rustlers stared at Pa as he lay unconscious. Then he scanned the meadow. "Fuck!" He shouted in frustration. The sheep were scattered all over the meadow. Some of them could be seen way off in the distance, still running as fast as they could. "It'll take hours to round all of them up! Rustle as many as you can, let's ride!"
"What about him?" Asked one of the rustlers. "Should we kill him?"
"Leave him. I think he learn his lesson." The leader gave his horse a kick and he set off across the meadow, leaving the rest of his men to round up as many of Pa's sheep they could.
It was late. The full moon sat high up in the night sky, casting its cool silver glow across the meadow.
Pa felt a huff of warm air against his face, and snapped awake. Jude nibbled gently at his ear. Once the commotion had stopped and the rustlers left, Jude came back to find my father. I never really knew how loyal horses were until I got older and one of my own, but as a boy I almost didn't believe Pa when he said that Jude had come looking for him.
Pa rolled over and pushed himself up onto his feet, groaning in pain. He looked around and noticed that the rustlers managed to get away with quite a few of his sheep. Only a small handful were left behind, and they all slept soundly in the lush green grass.
He counted six. So far. He hoped that he would come across more of his flock as he made the long trip home, but unfortunately those were the only six sheep the rustlers had left behind.
Pa sighed, and climbed up onto Jude. He gave him a pat, then a kick, and he set off to round up his sheep and head home.
When Pa finally got back to the farm, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. He was gone all night, and there was no doubt in his mind Ma was up all night with worry.
Just then, Ma burst through the door of the farmhouse and ran to my father. He climbed down off his horse and pulled her in tight. "I'm so sorry, Isla." He said.
"What happened!?" Ma shrieked once she noticed Pa's bruised and bloody face. She held her hands gently on Pa's cheeks and stared deep into his eyes, which had swollen over for the most part.
"Rustlers." He replied, pulling Ma's hands away from his face. "It hurts, love."
Ma grabbed Pa firmly by the arm and led him into the house. "Lay down." She said, helping Pa climb into bed.
"But the sheep..."
"Shhh!" Ma pointed a finger at Pa. "you need to rest. I'll get the sheep into the barn, and I'll be back to get you cleaned up."
Pa smiled. He knew he wasn't going to win this one. "Thank you." He whispered.
Ma smiled back, but her eyes expressed worry. Then she turned and went outside to tend to the sheep.
Later that night, when they were fast asleep, Pa said they were awoken by an awful commotion outside. When he peered out of the tiny farmhouse window, he couldn't believe what he saw. The barn - that his father had built many years before - was completely engulfed in flames. The last few sheep, who were sleeping peacefully in the barn, were now crying out in pain as they burned alive. A sound that Pa wished he could forget. Pa squinted his eyes and could faintly see the silhouette of two men sitting astride their horses, watching the barn burn. Black smoke poured through the upper windows, the glow from the flames created a dark orange haze against the black belly of the smoke above. The sheep's cries intensified.
Pa grabbed his Litchfield, which he had propped against the wall next to the bed. He cranked the lever, and ran out through the front door to confront the arsonists. He took aim at the man closest to him, but it wouldn't be an easy shot. The waves of heat made it hard to get a clear target. It made the men's silhouettes dance in the orange haze.
Pa fired, and the bullet sailed clean through the intruders throat. The other man tried to ride off, but Pa chambered another round, took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. He saw the mans body fall from his horse, and it continued to gallop off into the night.
Pa ran over to the wounded man, who was on his stomach groaning in pain. He rolled over onto his back, propped himself up and stared at Pa, struggling to find his breath. It was him. It was the rustler that had beaten and left him bloodied in a meadow. And now he lay in front of Pa, his wiry long hair strewn across his face. The bullet had gone into the centre of his back and out through his chest. Blood pooled beneath him, and he attempted to reach for the pistol holstered at his hip. Pa swung the stock-end of his repeater, colliding with the side of the rustlers head. He ripped the pistol from its holster and tossed it aside.
"Ye fucked up, lad!" The man said laughing through gritted, rotting teeth. "They'll be coming to look for us! They're going to cut yer fuckin' 'ead off!"
Pa's jaw clenched. Rage flooded over him, and his heart began to race. He cranked the lever of his repeater one more time and firmly pressed the barrel against the rustler's forehead.
"Aye...Right" Pa said. He shut his eyes tight.
The shot echoed through the valley. A thick crimson mist cascaded over Pa's face.
Pa rubbed the blood from his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the inferno that burned behind him. A lump grew in his throat. He swallowed hard, and made his way back to the house. He couldn't look Ma in the eye. He needed to stay strong, and he knew if he saw the devastation in her eyes, he would surely be brought to tears. Instead he held her tight, breathing in the scent of her soft strawberry-blonde hair.
"We need to leave." He said with a quiver in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Me cousin, Jamie, left for America a few years ago." The roar and crackle of fire still surged behind him, the animal's cries had stopped. "A town called, Rhodes. We need to leave before the rest of em come lookin'!"
A few days had passed. Once Pa buried the rustlers and took care of the charred remains of his flock, they packed everything they could fit into a large steamer trunk and two smaller suitcases, boarded the next available steamship, and made the nine-day trip across the North Atlantic. I'm almost certain I was conceived on that ship, because 9 months after their arrival in America, little Colton William McCrosky was born. But people just call me Colt these days.
My folks weren't wealthy by any means. They had to sell Jude and most of their belongings to pay for their tickets, and they weren't exactly first-class tickets either. They may as well have just slept in the engine room.
The ship was crowded. Full of people heading to America to start a new life, or to catch up with their families that have already made the journey west. It seemed like a large majority of the passengers were heading to Chicago, or New York. Not many going to Saint Denis, though. Apparently it had a fairly bad reputation. And there were stories of giant, prehistoric looking lizards with razor sharp teeth, and they could swallow you whole in less than ten seconds.
Pa scoffed at the thought. What a ridiculous claim! Giant, man-eating lizards... Boy, was he in for a surprise. Lemoyne was full of them! The swamps that spanned the Bayou of Lemoyne were home to the large Gators. And you would never want to end up in the Kamassa without a boat, they'd have you pulled underwater and torn to shreds before you even knew what happened.
After nine long days aboard the steamship, they snaked their way down the Lannahechee River and could finally see the Saint Denis skyline on the horizon. It wasn't long after dusk, but you could still see the smog that hung above the large stone buildings. Huge columns of thick black smoke puffed from smokestacks of factories on the West end of the city. The warm orange glow from the gas lamps illuminated the dark smog in an eerie way. Visions of the barn fire flashed through Pa's mind.
The docks were quiet when the steamship eased its way in to dock, the cool salt water lapped up against the large wooden piles that secured the dock. In the distance, the sound of hooves could be heard clacking along the cobblestone streets. A small flock of gulls flew overhead, laughing as they dipped and soared through the warm salty air.
Pa held out his hand to help my mother down off the large ramp leading down from the main deck of the steamship. His hands were rough and callused from years of hard work. He brushed a lock of thick almond-coloured hair away from his brow. "We've made it, Isla." He pulled her in close for a kiss. His moustache tickled under her nose. But Ma didn't mind any. She loved his bushy beard and moustache.
Pa held her away, and stared lovingly into her bright green eyes. But their tender moment was cut short to the sound of a boisterous voice, that began shouting over the befuddled crowd of passengers.
"Personal items can be collected on your left, once the crew has them offloaded!" Shouted a large man in a bright white naval uniform. He held his officers hat tightly under one arm. "If you are not staying in Saint Denis," he continued, "You will find the post office behind me on Victory Street, just across the tracks. There, you will be able to purchase train tickets, or there are stagecoaches available for hire. Although, If you are travelling north, you may want to wait until morning." The mans expression suddenly became very stern. "The Bayou isn't safe at night. Strange folk about."
Pa turned to my mother who had a look of fear painted across her face. "We'll be alright, love." He said. His Gaelic accent was very different than the drawl a lot of these Americans had. He put his arm around her. "We're headed west to Rhodes. Once we find Jamie, we'll be able to get ourselves settled."
Ma forced a smile. Tiny dimples formed on her delicate cheeks. Her bright green eyes, that usually sparkled with happiness seemed faded. She wasn't so sure how she felt about all of this. About moving across an entire ocean to a completely different continent. She was terrified. But it was better than staying in Scotland, where they would constantly be on the run from the rest of that posse of rustlers. And they would no doubt, be looking for them once they discovered that Pa had killed two more of them.
Pa could tell she was having doubts. Even though she kept telling him that she was fine.
They hardly had any money with them, and what they did manage to stuff into their steamer trunk and suitcases would only last a few weeks.
"Mick...Mac. Mac-crow-Skee?" A young man shouted from the luggage stand. His head swivelled side to side, hoping the right people heard his terrible pronunciation of their last name.
"Mick-craw-skee." Pa shouted back with a chuckle. "Ye wouldn'y be the first! We've just arrived from Scotland!"
"No shit!" The young man exclaimed. He placed his hands gallantly on his hips and grinned a bright, white toothy grin. He had, no doubt, been to a dentist once or twice in his lifetime. He was very handsome, early twenties, and he was dressed with a sense of pride. Sure, he was wearing work trousers and a simple collared shirt. But his clothes were clean, his collar crisp. His pants and shoes were dirty and slightly worn, but only from putting in an honest days work. He stuck out his burly chest and gave Pa a firm handshake. "The name's Eli. Eli Bradshaw."
"Murdock McCrosky." Pa replied. He was impressed how strong Eli's grip was. Especially at his young age.
"Pleasure's mine, mister." Eli released Pa's hand and reached over to a wooden hand cart that was loaded with their luggage. He waved his head, "Follow me, the post office is this way."
"Come along, Isla." Pa held out his arm and led ma to the Post office.
"What brings you to Saint Denis, Mr. McCrosky?" His voice was deep, and carried just the slightest drawl. The wheels of the hand cart squeaked and rattled as it rolled across the large wooden planks of the dock, so they had to speak over the noise.
Pa explained how they had sold everything they had, and left everything in Scotland behind in pursuit of a better life. And how he was hoping to reunite with his cousin, Jamie, in Rhodes. "We didnae have much," he said, stepping over the large iron rails of the train depot, and onto the cobblestone street. "We had land. We had a home, more or less." Pa let out a sigh. "We raised sheep. Planned on sellin' em later on that month, for a fair penny I might add!" Pa thought very carefully about how he was going to word his next sentence. "There was, erm, a fire. Whole bloody barn burned to the grund..." He hated having to re-live that moment in his mind. "All of the sheep were in the barn when it went up."
Eli came to a dead stop and looked at my father with an expression of overwhelming sympathy. "Jesus...I'm real sorry..." he lowered his head, let out a sigh, and continued on. Pushing the noisy wooden luggage cart in front of him. "How the hell did it catch fire?"
"Lightenin'." Pa replied. Complete bullshit. But it was a better excuse than what really happened. "Terrible storm. The thunder was deafening." He lied again.
"That's an awful thing to happen, mister." Eli shook his head. "Just awful."
When they reached the Post Office, Eli dropped the luggage off at the East end of the station, where there was a large awning that spanned across a small cement platform. There were benches for passengers to sit while they waited to catch a train, or stagecoach.
Pa extended his hand and shook the young mans hand. "Tapadh leat" He said in Gaelic. "Thank ye very much, lad." Then he turned to my mother. "Stay here, love." He kissed Ma's forehead. "I'm going to see about finding us a stagecoach."
Ma gave Eli a smile. "Thank ye, Mr. Bradshaw."
"Please," Eli held up a hand. "Call me Eli. And the pleasure is all mine, Mrs. McCrosky."
"Have ye any idea how far Rhodes is from 'ere?" Ma asked, her voice was soft. A little shy. She wasn't sure people would understand her in this new land.
"Well if you left tonight," The young man said as he placed a cigarette in his lips and lit it. "Reckon you'd get there by sun up." He took a long draw of his cigarette. "You can always rent a room."
"I'm afraid we haven't got very much money." She said sadly. She lowered her head.
Eli smiled sympathetically. Then took another long drag from his cigarette. The smoke made Ma's eyes water. There was no breeze, so the smoke lingered in the humid air. Suddenly, Eli had a thought.
"Here..." He said. He hung his cigarette from the side of his mouth as he rummaged through the front pocket of his trousers. He pulled out a clip of neatly folded bank notes. He licked his thumb and began counting to himself in a low whisper. When he got to 'five' he pulled the notes out of the clip, and handed them to Ma. "Fifty oughta get you folks started."
Where he got this money, she didn't want to know. He certainly wouldn't have made this in a day working as a dock hand.
"You and your husband should get some rest." Eli took another drag of his cigarette. "Get a room at the Bastille." Eli pointed toward the connecting street on the other side of the post office. "Head north on Frontier Street a ways, you'll see it on the right. Corner of Saint Nicolas Street."
Ma stared at the young man in confusion.
"I'll meet you and your husband there in the morning." He tossed what was left of his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out with his shoe. "I'll give y'all a ride to Rhodes. No charge. I know a feller that has a small ranch not far from there. He deals with cows mostly, but I'm sure he might have a horse or two for sale. Once y'all find your cousin and you get settled in, Mr. McCrosky and I can make the trip over there and get you a couple horses."
"That's very kind of you." Ma could feel her eyes welling up. "But, why? Why help us?"
The young man smiled. "Get some rest, ma'am. I'll meet you and your husband at the Saloon of The Bastille at seven o'clock. Sharp." He placed his hand gently on Ma's shoulder and gave her another smile. "G'night, ma'am." Then he turned and made his way back towards the docks, whistling a tune as he went.
Pa exited the post office. "The last coach heading to Rhodes was supposed to arrive over an hour ago." Pa said with a tone of frustration. "They never came, so they have the law heading out to some place north of 'ere called...Lakay?" Pa scratched his head. Strange Folk About... he thought. "The clerk is arranging a carriage to take us to an inn. Auberge...somethin' or other."
He was talking about The Auberge Belle Helene. It was located on the North Eastern part of the city, where the large multi storey buildings and cobblestone streets turned into slums, and muddy roads.
"It isn't much from what he told me. But they 'ave rooms and hot food." Pa shrugged. "Where'd the lad run off to?" Pa asked, suddenly noticing Eli was no longer there.
Ma handed him the fifty dollars Eli had given here. "He gave me this." She said. "Said we should get a room at the Bastille," She pointed in the same direction Eli had pointed. "He offered to take us to Rhodes in the mornin'. He also said he would show you where we could get a couple horses!" Ma's uneasiness slowly began to turn into excitement.
Pa raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Where'd he get this?" He stared at the folded bank notes in his hand, and started thumbing through them. The same thought had crossed his mind, how could a dock hand have this much money in his pocket?
"Dunno." Ma replied. "Didn't think it would be polite to ask, especially when he's going out of his way to help us." She gave Pa a 'Mind your own damn business' sort of look as their carriage driver rounded the post office.
"Evening, folks." The driver said, tipping his top hat. He was dressed quite elegantly, sporting a well-tailored jacket and pants. A dark Navy bow tie fastened snug around his sharp white collar. He dropped the reigns and climbed down from the carriage. "Climb aboard, and I'll take care of your belongings."
Pa held Ma's hand as she made the big step up onto the carriage. The seats where plush, upholstered with a dark red leather. The carriage itself was painted in a dark glossy charcoal colour. The large black Shire that pulled the carriage was very well groomed. It's mane and tail were done up in braids. Pa took his seat and closed the door to the carriage.
Once the driver finished loading their luggage, they were off. My mother loved how the horses hooves clopped along the cobblestone. They made their way around the post office and headed up Frontier Street.
Ma and Pa had never seen such a big city before. They were used to the tiny village of Fort William. They were in awe at all the little shops that lined the street. There was a music shop, a shoe store. To the right was the Lemoyne National Bank, and right across the street was the Saint Denis Times Tribune. Ma told herself that she would need to return to Saint Denis once they got settled in. If Rhodes is only as far as Eli said it was, she would make a point to come back and get a better experience of the 'Big City'.
"Whoa-ho-ho!" The driver said as he tightened the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt. "Here we are, folks. The Bastille." He said.
Pa cranked his head to look up at the building. The second floor of the large stone building had a terrace. A gold-coloured railing ran along the edge of it and within the spindles were large gold letters reading: LA BASTILLE SALOON. "Incredible..." He whispered.
"Head on in and speak to the bartender." He'll get you a room." The driver grunted, hauling the large steam trunk off the back of the carriage and placing it in the ground. "I'll have them bring your things up once you're settled."
"Thank you." Pa said. He slid his hand in his pocket and fumbled for a handful of coins. "I'm afraid I don't have much... but I hope that this should be enough for yer trouble." He dropped the coins in the driver's hand.
A look of disgust crossed the drivers face. He looked at the handful of coins and scoffed. "This is hardly even worth my time! What am I supposed to do with this?" He continued to mutter obscenities under his breath as he stuffed the money in his pocket, climbed up onto the carriage and rode away.
"Awa' n' bile yer heed, ye fuckin' roaster!" Pa shouted at the driver. Then he turned to my mother. "Sorry, love." He hated speaking like that in front of my mother. He didn't think a lady should ever hear such foul language. He also didn't feel that the short carriage ride was worth an entire ten dollar bank note either.
Ma smiled. "Let's get some rest." She grabbed Pa's arm and they made their way inside the Bastille.
"Well I think we found everyone." Pa chuckled. The saloon was busy with patrons. Folks mingling and enjoying their drinks as the sound of piano music played over the chatter. Off to the right, a poker table, and at the opposite end of the room was the bar. A beautiful dark wood bar, that complimented the the rest of the woodwork throughout the Bastille. Behind the bar stood an older gentleman with a handlebar moustache, pouring drinks and laughing with the patrons.
Pa made his way up to the bar and waved for the bartenders attention. The bartender nodded to acknowledge him, finished serving his other customer and greeted Pa with a smile. "What'll it be, mister?"
"Would it be any trouble to get a room for the evening?" Pa asked. He was becoming more aware of his thick Gaelic accent, which stood out in this new land. "Me wife an' I just arrived from a long trip across the Atlantic."
"No trouble at all!" The bartender exclaimed. "It'll be five dollars for the night."
Pa leafed through the banknotes Eli had given them. "Would we be able to get a hot meal as well?" Pa could make out the faint smell of food, wafting through the saloon.
"We've got some fantastic prime rib!" The bartender said as he continued to pour drinks. "That'll be an even ten. Take a seat anywhere you like and I'll bring it right out!"
Pa slipped ten dollars from the fold of banknotes Eli had given them and handed it to the bartender. Then he led Ma over to an empty table over by the window.
After their meal, a young man who worked at The Bastille helped Pa drag the heavy steamer trunk upstairs to their room. He shook his hand, thanked him for the help, and closed the door.
Pa flopped back onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. "This is it." He said. "We've made it to America. Only great things ahead, Isla!"
Ma laid down on the bed next to Pa and smiled. She placed her hand on his chest. "Get some sleep." She whispered. "Our Journey has only just begun."
Truer words have never been spoken. This certainly was just the beginning for my mother and father.